


Be My Fire In The Cold

by mothmanwashere



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Christmas, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 01:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16985265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanwashere/pseuds/mothmanwashere
Summary: Lance invites his best friend Keith to spend some time with him in the town they grew up in over winter break. Call it poor timing or Christmas magic, but the time together dredges up some old memories for Keith, who's been holding a candle for Lance for quite some time now.fic title from the song "Santa Tell Me" by Ariana Grande.





	Be My Fire In The Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holiday y'all! I had big ideas for this fic but I literally cannot write fast enough so I had to tone it down. The mood for this fic is somewhere between "ilysb" by lany and "santa tell me" by ariana grande.
> 
> It's a bit "Last Five Years" style, by which I mean Lance's POV is set in the present and runs forwards while Keith's are set in the past and run backwards.

It started with Lance asking the room about their holiday plans, as if he couldn’t practically plan half their itineraries for them.

“I’m going to my grandparents’,” Pidge said, her focus not wavering for a moment from Keith’s hand for a moment as she applied jet black nail polish with a pain-staking hand.  She returned the wand to the bottle and blew gently on the wet polish.

“Christmas in Ireland,” Lance sighed wistfully.  “Must be nice, huh?”

“If only,” Pidge said.  “We don’t do Christmas with my mom’s side of the family, so it’s actually Christmas in California wine country with a hundred loud Italians who are somehow all related to us and know my name even though I’ve literally never seen them in my life.”

“Isn’t your dad, like, super into ancestry and stuff?” Hunk asked.  “You should know how they’re all related.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t strangers,” Pidge pointed out, taking Keith’s other hand into her lap.  “Anyway.  What are you doing, Hunk?”

“Going home, naturally,” Hunk said.  “Mom’s on call, but my sister will be home and my uncle’s family is coming to town, so I’m pretty excited.”

“That’s great, buddy!” Lance exclaimed, capping his own bottle of nail polish and examining his toenails for any imperfections in the color.  “I know you’ve been missing your sister.”

“She still can’t believe her boss approved the time off,” Hunk chuckled.  “Christmas miracle, right?”

“Definitely,” Pidge nodded.  She turned her head briefly toward Lance, nudging her glasses up her nose with her wrist.  “You’re going home, too, right Lance?”

Lance nodded eagerly.  “I could never miss family Christmas.  All my Mama and Abuela’s cooking, all my siblings under one roof, all my nieces and nephews running around screaming their heads off.”

“Sounds loud,” Pidge said.

“It is, I can’t wait,” Lance said, beaming.  “How about you, Keith? When are you leaving?”

Keith shrugged, bringing his gaze up from where he’d been watching Pidge paint his nails.  “My mom isn’t back until the twenty-fourth, so I’ll head down then.”

“What?” Lance asked, his eyebrows rising in concern.  “I thought she was coming back yesterday.”

“She got delayed,” Keith said, shrugging.  “I thought I told you?”

“Well, why don’t you go to Shiro’s?” Lance asked.  “He’s not far from there.”

“He and Adam are spending Christmas in Chicago with Adam’s mom,” Keith said.  “It’s not a big deal.  I’ll just hang out around here.  I’ll deep clean the kitchen or something.”

Lance turned toward his best friend, swiveling his whole body to confront Keith head on. “Dude, staying here is so _depressing_.”

Keith frowned. “I _live_ here,” he protested.

“Yeah, but everyone else is leaving,” Lance volleyed. “This house is fuckin’ scary when it’s quiet.”

“It’s not that bad,” Keith said. “Just creaky.”

“And haunted,” Pidge piped up, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

“Haunted!?” Lance squeaked, his eyes going wide.  “I’ve been living here for three months, no one told me this place was fucking _haunted_.”

“It’s not haunted,” Hunk argued.

“Slightly haunted,” Keith said, nodding.

“There’s a poltergeist in the attic,” Pidge said. “And James swears he saw a little girl in a Victorian nightgown,” she said, referring to their fifth roommate.

“That was _you_ in one of my shirts,” Hunk claimed.

“James doesn’t think so,” Pidge said.

“James is a dumbass,” Keith said flatly. “There is a poltergeist though.”

“Yeah, you can’t possibly stay here alone,” Lance declared. “You’ll be on a milk carton by the time we come home.”

“I don’t think they put missing college students on milk cartons,” Hunk said.

“It’s only four days,” Keith put in.

“Drive home with me,” Lance suggested.

“My mom’s not home until Christmas eve.”

“So? Stay with me,” Lance said.

“Your whole family’s gonna be home,” Keith pointed out.

“You can crash in my room,” Lance said. “It’ll be like old times! You know my family won’t care.”

Keith made a face. “Are you sure?”

“Just come wiiith,” Lance wheedled. “It’ll be fun! We’ll party with my sisters and let my abuela stuff us full of that good Christmas food.”

“Only if you’re _sure,”_ Keith conceded.

“We’re leaving at nine,” Lance confirmed with a grin.

Pidge shook her head.  “Whipped,” she muttered under her breath, almost quietly enough that Lance didn’t catch it. 

Lance bristled, an accusation on the tip of his tongue before he realized Pidge’s comment hadn’t been directed at him. Keith was shooting her a look that, if it had any more heat to it, could have killed her where she sat. Pidge seemed to find this amusing. Lance’s heartbeat settled in his chest.

“I forgot my sparkly top-coat,” Lance said, jumping up from his spot on the floor.  “Be right back!”

\--

 

Their mutually agreed upon destruction had been sealed long before Lance burst through the front door, threw his backpack across the kitchen, and tossed his hands over his head with the broken yell only a college student could summon. “I _fucking_ did it, guys!”

Keith glanced at the clock above the kitchen window. It was barely past five. “You made good time.”

“Yeah, I either nailed it or failed it,” Lance said, folding his arms on the countertop beside Keith and laying his head on top of them. “But I _lived_.”

“Good job, man,” Keith said, patting his best friend on the back.  “Should we round up the roomies and get an early start?”

“God, _please_ ,” Lance groaned.  “I need tequila in my bloodstream, like, yesterday.”

“Maybe you should start with a burger,” Keith suggested. “You haven’t eaten anything but pop tarts in, like, a week.”

“Not true,” Lance protested, rolling his head just far enough to look at Keith. “I ate half a box of Kix at three am yesterday.”

“Pidge is gonna kill you for eating her cereal,” Keith said. “And that barely counts as food, so my point stands.”

“Hey, I heard Lance, can we go now?” Pidge asked in a breathless rush, sliding into the kitchen in her stocking feet.

“Yes, let’s get post-finals wasted!” Lance exclaimed. “Hunk! Buddy, you coming?”

“I’m here!” Hunk called, rounding the corner behind Pidge at a slightly slower pace. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

“Who needs food when I can buy more shots?” Pidge asked.

Lance nodded in agreement.

“Uh-huh,” Keith intoned flatly.  “So I guess burgers are on me because if you guys don’t eat, you’re literally going to die of alcohol poisoning.”

“Oh my god, Keith, I love you,” Lance groaned.

Keith rolled his eyes.  “You only love me when I buy you things.”

“You’re the world’s best sugar daddy, Keithers.”

”Sugar daddy would imply I actually get reciprocal satisfaction out of this arrangement.”

”You get the satisfaction of having a well-fed best friend,” Lance said, draping an arm over Keith’s shoulders as they all headed for the door.

Several hours and far too much alcohol later, Keith couldn’t help but stare across the room at Lance, his arms waving high in the air and the hem of his sweatshirt riding up above his navel as he danced with an equally intoxicated James. Even with his hair curling out from beneath the ends of his baseball cap and his contacts exchanged out for a pair of dark, square framed glasses, Lance looked like he could light up the room. He was radiant in a crowd, standing so far out above the rest that anyone else could only dream of catching him. Keith was drunk enough that he didn’t notice the wistful little sigh that escaped him as he traced his finger through the condensation on his glass.

“What’s that sigh for?” Pidge asked, tilting her head curiously. “Who were you staring at?”

“Nobody,” Keith said. “Just watching.”

“Watching _someone_ ,” Pidge said, scanning the crowd. “Someone catch your eye?”

“Yeah, a long time ago,” Keith muttered, and it shouldn’t have been audible over the din of the bar, but Pidge’s brows lifted immediately.

“Were you staring at James?” she whispered, leaning over the high top table to hiss the question in Keith’s face.

“What? No,” Keith said, his lip curling with disgust.  “I was looking at Lance.”

“You were looking at _Lance_?!” Pidge’s eyes were as wide as saucers.  “Seriously?”

“So what? Who cares? He’s my best friend, I’m allowed to look at him.”

“You had your pining face on,” Pidge said accusatorially. “You have a crush on Lance.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but whether he was too drunk to be convincing or whether Pidge was too stubborn to let the matter drop, it didn’t matter, because she was sliding around the side of the table to sit beside Keith.

“How long have you had a crush on him?”

There was no reason Keith needed to acknowledge her question. It was none of her business.  Who cared if Keith knew exactly how long it had been?  “Four years.”

Fuck.  Tequila Keith needed to get a grip.

Pidge’s jaw dropped. “ _Four years_?”

“Four and a half, but who’s counting?” Keith asked, studying the dregs of whiskey circling the bottom of his glass. “Not me, that’s for sure.”

“That’s _insane_ , Keith,” Pidge hissed.

“No one asked you,” Keith said, scrunching up his nose.  “And why do you care?”

“Uh, because you’re my friend and this is probably super unhealthy or something.”

“It’s not, it’s just a pain in the ass,” Keith muttered.

“And you haven’t gotten over it in four and a half years?” Pidge asked.

“What can I say, Pidge?” Keith asked.  “It’s not like I haven’t tried.”

“So are you, like, in love with him or do you just want to fuck him?”

“No.  Both.  I don’t know.  Shit.  I hate thinking about it, so I usually don’t.”

“Unhealthy,” Pidge repeated. “Does he know?”

“God no,” Keith said.

“Why don’t you just ask him out then?”

“First of all, please acknowledge that asking your childhood and current best friend if he wants to bump uglies with you is literally the most uncomfortable interaction in the world,” Keith said. “And second, it’s not like I haven’t considered it. It’s just like… he’s dating someone, or I’m dating someone, or he’s sworn off of men forever aka six weeks until he redownloads Grindr and comes home with a limp and it’s not like I can just…” Keith gestured vaguely, uncertain how (or unwilling) to put it into more eloquent language. “So it’s been my own dirty little secret for the last four and a half years, and I’ll kill you if you tell _anyone_.”

“You haven’t told anyone?” Pidge asked. 

“Not even Shiro, so don’t fucking test me.”

Pidge took a drink with raised eyebrows. “I think this almost explains why you are the way you are.”

“Shut up, it doesn’t,” Keith said. His gaze slanted back toward Pidge. “Does it?”

\--

Lance was up far earlier than he needed to be the next morning, checking and rechecking that he’d packed all he needed to for his trip home and loading the bags neatly in the trunk of his ancient red Subaru.  He was just coming back inside when he caught a glimpse of Keith, with his morning face on and his hair sticking up in a hundred directions, slinking toward the bathroom.  “Are your bags ready?” Lance asked before Keith could disappear fully inside the bathroom.

“Uh, yeah,” Keith grunted, his voice still thick with sleep.  “By the closet.”

Lance flashed a thumbs up and made a beeline for Keith’s room, grabbing the bag sitting ready by the closet door and hauling that out to the car as well.  Then, to kill some time while he waited for Keith to finish getting ready, he made coffee for the trip.  His own was mostly peppermint creamer with a dash of coffee to taste, but Keith’s he left black and stirred in just a bit of sugar to cut the bitterness.

Lance had always found it funny that the way Keith took his coffee was a bit like his personality – secretly sweet under a deceptively harsh exterior.  Lance had known Keith for far too long to be deceived by his black-coffee-drinking guise. He wasn’t quite so tough as he made out to be with his permanently crooked nose and tousled hockey hair.

Lance chugged most of his coffee as he listened restlessly for the shower to turn off and the sound of Keith padding back to his bedroom to dress.  Keith surfaced as Lance was draining the last bit of his own coffee, his pillow tucked under his arm and his hair damp, combed back and curling around the crew-cut neck of his sweatshirt. Lance pressed the second thermos into his hands and herded him into the car. 

Keith’s first sip was long enough that Lance briefly wondered if he was going to chug the whole thing.  He did not, eventually righting his cup with a satisfied sigh.  “I love you,” Keith said, his voice still a bit gritty with sleep.  “Your coffee is to die for.”

Lance grinned.  “Love is my secret ingredient, fyi.”

He’d known Keith long enough to know to give him a bit of time to fully wake up.  The shower was the first step, and the coffee would be the second.  Lance hummed quietly along with the radio, set to the Christmas station where it had been since Thanksgiving night.  Eventually, Keith stretched, rolling his neck side to side to crack it, and leaned forward to turn the radio up.

The ride was familiar and passed by quicker on the way there, in Lance’s opinion.  Lance drew in a sharp breath when they finally pulled into town and saw the decorations lining the streets.

“Looks good this year,” Keith commented.

“God, I love Christmas,” Lance sighed, grinning as they passed the big, decorated tree in the center of their hometown.  The skating rink sat nestled below it, already filled with people skating in the early afternoon light.  “I swear, no place does Christmas better than here.”

“You’re biased,” Keith teased.

“Maybe so,” Lance said, glancing toward Keith.  “It’s still my favorite place at Christmas.”

“Mine too,” Keith admitted.

Lance turned down the street he and Keith had grown up on, tires crunching against snow-packed pavement.  He could practically feel Keith staring at him from the corner of his eye, no doubt amused by the way Lance’s face slowly morphed into an ecstatic grin as he caught sight of his parents house down the block. 

The house itself wasn’t too impressive – big, but not fancy, trimmed in Christmas lights with a snowman standing on the side of the driveway, grinning in welcome as Lance pulled his car up to the house.  Lance caught a peek of two dark-headed children peering out the big bay window at the front of the house as he pulled up, and by the time he and Keith had made it out of the car, the kids were both barreling out the front door in snowboots and winter jackets left unzipped to tackle him into the snowpacked front lawn.  “Tio Lance!” they shrieked in tandem.

“Hey!” Lance responded, catching both his niece and nephew as they pushed him backwards onto the lawn.  “Oh my god, you guys are getting so big!”

“I lost a tooth, Tio!” Sylvio shouted, pulling back his lip to show off the gap in his teeth.  “See?!”

“Oh, look at that!” Lance said enthusiastically, tousling a hand through his nephew’s dark brown curls.  “Did the tooth fairy come visit you?”

“Yeah, I got a whole dollar!”

“That’s awesome, mijito!”

“Tio, I got a new ballet trophy!” Nadia exclaimed.  “Do you wanna see it?”

“Of course I do, Chiquita _!”_   Lance finally managed to get the kids to let him sit up, the back of his jacket packed with snow.  “Hey, guys, you know who else is here?”

Two small heads whipped in Keith’s direction, their enthusiasm renewing over again.  “Keith!”

Keith was fortunate enough to be left upright, but both his legs were quickly accosted by the two excited children, bouncing up and down as they chanted his name.  He bent down to wrap an arm around each of them in a hug before they pulled away to run back toward their uncle.

“Tio, we’re making cookies!” Nadia informed him.  “Do you want to help?”

“I’d love to,” Lance said.  “But Keith and I have to unpack the car and say hi to Abuela and Abuelo first, okay?”

“Okay!”

“ _Ay!_ Nadia! Sylvio! Get back inside!” One of Lance’s sisters-in-law appeared in the doorway the kids had left open, her arms wrapping her sweater tighter around her.  “Where are your hats?”

“But, Tia Lindy, Keith and Tio Lance are here!” Sylvio protested.

“They’ll still be here when you get your frozen little butts inside the house,” Lindy replied, lifting a stern eyebrow at the kids.  “Come on.”

The kids each grabbed once of Lance’s hands, pulling him into the house along with them.  Lance jerked his head toward the door, indicating Keith follow them.  Inside the house, the ruckus the kids had made had alerted the rest of the house to Lance and Keith’s arrival, and the welcoming party enveloped them in the warmest of greetings.  Lance greeted them with equally matched enthusiasm, knowing Keith was hanging back to give him a chance to reacquaint.  It didn’t take too long for Lance’s oldest sister, Veronica, to catch sight of Keith and pull him into the thick of it.  He was family by now, too. 

“Leandro says you’re staying with us until Krolia comes home,” Lance’s step-father, Raphael, said, clapping Keith on the shoulder with a beaming smile.  “It’s good to have the whole family under one roof, _mijo_.”

Everyone cooed over them, asking how school was and what they’d been up to and all the required small-talk.  Keith shot Lance a glance that begged him to get them out of their current situation.

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, laughing.  “Can Keith and I take our stuff upstairs now?”

“Of course, mijo,” Lance’s mother, Selma, cooed.  “Do you need help bringing it in from the car?”

“No, I got it,” Keith said.  “We packed pretty light.  Well, I packed pretty light, and Lance packed a suitcase that weighs almost as much as he does, but it’s manageable.”

“Go get settled,” Selma said, shooing them toward the stairs.  “Luis brought extra bedding up for you already.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Lance said, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

“And then come back down, because we’ve got enough food to feed the whole neighborhood,” Raphael chuckled.

“God knows you boys need it,” Selma clucked.  “Do you even eat when you’re at school? You’re so skinny!”

Lance rolled his eyes good-naturedly.  “We eat, Mama.”

“It’s definitely not as good as your cooking, Selma,” Keith added.

Selma grinned slyly.  “I know that, _mijo_ , you don’t need to flatter me.  Go, go unpack.”

The boys retrieved their suitcases and headed upstairs to Lance’s room.  It was small, but it was his own, with a full-sized futon pressed against one wall and a small desk in the corner.  There was a pile of bedding sitting on the end of the bed, old quilts that were past their prime but still warm and cozy.  He could tell Keith was already eyeing it with intent.

“I know you’re a nester,” Lance said, hefting his suitcase up onto the bed so he could unzip it.  “But if you want to share, I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll pass for now,” Keith said lightly.  “But if my back is killing me tomorrow, I may reconsider.”

Lance laughed, somehow having known Keith’s answer before he’d even asked.  They’d slept in the same bed without a second thought as children, but after Keith had come out, he’d stopped – whether out of respect for Lance or for his own comfort.  Lance wasn’t quite sure how to tell Keith that he missed it without upsetting the balance of their friendship.  Lance wasn’t sure how to say a lot of things without upsetting their friendship.  “Alright dude, open invitation.  You can have your pick of the blankets.  I’ll see if I can nick some pillows from Rachel’s room.”

“Don’t even try it, baby brother.”

Lance glanced up, catching sight of his sister, Rachel, from where she stood leaned against the doorway of the bedroom.  She and Keith shared a quick smile before Rachel leveled her brother with a playfully stern eye.

“They’re for _Keith_ ,” Lance protested.

“I don’t care if they’re for abuelita,” Rachel said.  “My pillows are my pillows.”

“Where’s your sense of hospitality, Chella?” Lance asked.  “Our guest has to sleep on the hard, unforgiving floor while you’re sleeping on a plush throne?”

Rachel rolled her eyes.  “I literally heard you offer him the bed, stupid.  Besides, it’s _Keith_ ,” Rachel said, her voice canting up into a mocking lilt.  “You’ve been sleeping together since you were five years old.”

“Wow, way to phrase that in the worst possible way,” Lance said blandly, willing his face not to flush because _goddamn it_ Chel did not deserve to know that her comment had gotten under Lance’s skin.  “We’re grown-ass men, now, Chel, and my futon has not accounted for the growth spurts that occurred in the last fifteen years.”

“Mhm,” Rachel hummed.  “I’ll bet you ten bucks you wind up both sleeping in the bed by Christmas.”

“Leave them alone, Chelita,” Veronica said, also appearing in the doorway.  “No need to pull pigtails.  We all know you never got over your crush on Keith from middle school.”

“I think the lesbianism helped,” Rachel drawled flatly.

“I’m really good at making people realize they’re gay,” Keith said, nodding.

“It’s his superpower,” Lance added.  “He turned two of his teammates last year.  They’re, like, obsessed with him now.”

“Closeted jocks are the worst,” Keith muttered.

“Good to hear the boy whose diapers I changed is getting mad tail from newly gay hockey players,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes.

“You did _not_ change his diapers,” Lance said.  “Keith didn’t even move here ‘til we were in the first grade.”

“I was exaggerating for dramatic effect,” Veronica said.  “I don’t want to hear about Keith’s sex life any more than I want to tell him about mine.”

“I’m glad we have this understanding, Ron,” Keith said, biting back a laugh.

There was a burst of noise from downstairs, and Rachel leaned back to see the commotion.  “Abuela and Abuelo are here,” she said, leaning back toward the door.  “I’m going to say hi.”

“We’ll be down in a few minutes,” Lance said.

Veronica and Rachel left, and Lance flopped backwards onto the futon.

“Your sisters are in rare form today,” Keith commented.

“They’re demons, I swear it,” Lance said.  “Lindy and Julia can stay, but they’re on thin fucking ice.”

“Sisters-in-law aren’t even safe?”

“They’re contractually bound to minions of Satan,” Lance said.

“Your brothers?”

“Marriage is a _contract_ , Keith,” Lance said.  “They basically sold their souls for the D.”

“Wow, that’s an uncomfortable way to put it,” Keith snickered.

Lance threw a pillow at Keith’s head.  “We’re still twelve, aren’t we?”

“Sometimes,” Keith agreed.

“Only sometimes?”

Keith shrugged.  “I think there’s a lot of shit we’ve done that we never would have fathomed at twelve, don’t you think?”

Lance twisted his mouth pensively, considering Keith’s words.  “Sure, but some things never change.”

“Like?”

“You and me,” Lance grinned.  “Best friends forever.”

\--

“We’re not dressing in drag for Halloween, Lance.”

“It’s not _drag_ ,” Lance protested, tossing his head back in a way that had Keith stuffing back an unsolicited question of what it would be like to kiss the column of bronze skin that ran down Lance’s throat.  He’d tried so hard to leave his crush behind with high school, but without leaving Lance behind, it was really an impossible task.  “We’ll look better than anyone at the damn party.”

“I’m not _crossdressing_ for a frat party, Lance,” Keith said.

“But it’s so representative of our friendship,” Lance whined.  “You’re the Winona Ryder to my Kim Walker.”

“You mean everyone only knows who one of us is?”

Lance clicked his tongue.  “Bitch.”

“Did you google who played Heather Chandler to know Kim Walker’s name?”

“No,” Lance said.  “Unlike _some_ people, I read the credits.”

“Why?”

“Why’s your face like that?” Lance retorted heatlessly.

“Why is the only celebrity you ever compare me to Winona Ryder?”

“Because you are,” Lance replied.  “If there was, like, a dude Winona Ryder, that’s you.  Aw fuck, a dude Winona Ryder would be hot as fuck.”

Keith lifted an eyebrow.  “You have a type.”

“Scusi?”

Keith rolled his eyes.  “You always think dudes who look like, I dunno, fuckin’ John Cusack are hot.”

“First of all, young John Cusack could get it,” Lance said, one finger waving in the air.  “Second of all, what’s wrong with having a type?”

Keith shrugged.  “Nothing, I’m just pointing it out.”

“I’m well aware what my type is, Keith, and it’s not John Cusack, thanks,” Lance said blandly.  Keith wasn’t quite sure what that statement was supposed to mean.  “Come on, Keith, it’s college,” Lance said, bouncing back to his original topic.  “Live a little.”

“I don’t wanna dress up, Lance,” Keith sighed.  “I just want to drink my body weight in Fireball and pretend I don’t hate Halloween.”

Lance twisted his mouth.  “Should we not go to the party?”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Keith said immediately.

“I didn’t think Halloween bothered you that much anymore,” Lance said.  “I mean, I get it, but—it’s been a few years since you’ve mentioned it.  It’s been a few years since you’ve skipped a party _because_ of it.”

Keith sucked in a deep breath, not even certain _why_ this year was hitting him as hard as it was.  “I dunno.  I think it’s cuz I’m out on my own.  I should just drive down and see my mom and I’d probably feel better.”

“Do you want to?” Lance asked.  “I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Keith said.

“I’m offering, man,” Lance said.  “I mean – I’ll take Nadia and Sylvio trick-or-treating or something.  Let you and your mom have some bonding time.”

“I’ll talk to her and see if she’s in town,” Keith said quietly.

“And if she’s not then—I don’t know, we’ll just chill here,” Lance offered.  “We’ll get our hands on a box of Fireball and watch Heathers.”

The part of Keith’s chest that had been quietly aching for days now, ever since he’d started thinking about Halloween and the anniversary of his father’s death, quieted down in the wake of Lance’s gentle offering.  Halloween was his best friend’s favorite holiday, and Keith usually didn’t mind entertaining his enthusiasm over it, but in the years it hit Keith extra hard, Lance always tried his best to be sensitive.

“You can still go to the party,” Keith said.  “I don’t want—”

“Hey,” Lance said.  “I’m gonna stop you right there, man.  If you think for _one_ second that there’s a single person I’d rather spend Halloween with, you’re dead wrong.  And before you ask – yes, I’m sure.”

Keith shook his head.  “You think you know me so damn well, don’t you?”

Lance’s mouth curled into a sly grin.  “I really think I do.”

\--

It was late when they retreated to the quiet of Lance’s room.  Lance lay on his side, scrolling absently through Twitter in the dark and sending funny tweets to Keith, who was curled up in his makeshift bed, which was a carefully arranged pile of quilts and pillows resting a foot from Lance’s bed.

“Are you still talking to that Ryan guy?” Keith asked, apropos of nothing.

Lance glanced up, but he could barely make out the dark silhouette of Keith, practically buried in blankets.  “On and off,” Lance said.  “He’s hard to talk to.  I can’t tell if he’s, like, a quiet type or if he’s standoffish.”

“You don’t have to talk to him to hook up with him,” Keith said.  “He’s hot, right?”

Lance pursed his lips, considering.  “I guess,” he said, hoping Keith would let it drop.  He would talk to Keith endlessly about any subject under the sun, but the moment Keith brought up dating or hookups or relationships of any kind, Lance’s stomach turned.  He’d taken longer than he should have to come to terms with the reason _why_ , but the knowledge almost made it harder.  It was a selfish instinct that Lance wanted nothing more than to be rid of.

“Just no more Nyma’s,” Keith said after a moment of silence.  “You might think I’m a delinquent car jacker, but stealing your car back for you was the most pain in the ass thing I’ve ever put myself through.”

Lance chuckled, his quiet laughter filling the silent room.  “I’ve never been more appreciative of your very specific skill set, Keith.”

“You’d have done the same thing.”

“Steal a car for you?” Lance asked, one eyebrow lifting high in amusement.  “No, Keith, I actually don’t think I would.”

“I mean, like… get revenge on a shitty ex,” Keith said.

“Oh, that one for sure,” Lance said easily.  “None of your exes are particularly shitty though.  You must have better taste than I do.”

“Gotta date to have exes,” Keith said, and there was the barest undertone of sourness that made Lance frown.

“You’ve dated,” Lance said.  “And you have exes.”

“I have one ex and a contact list full of blocked hookups,” Keith said.

“Having exes isn’t really that great, dude,” Lance said.  “You’re kinda lucky.”

“Sure,” Keith said blandly.

“I think you’re a regular Pinocchio, Keith, my man,” Lance said, angling to put a bit of levity back in the aura of the room.

“A what?” Keith asked, taking the bait easily.

“Pinocchio,” Lance repeated, the corners of his mouth already lifting at the punchline of his own joke.  “You know.  No strings.  Bit of an ass.  Grower not a shower?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Keith groaned, and Lance bit his lip to hold back his laughter.  A pillow flew out of the dark and nearly hit Lance in the face.  “You’re the worst.”

\--

Keith had been a year and a half deep into his crush on Lance when he accidentally stumbled upon a game of Spin the Bottle at a house party he’d been dragged to.  He had arrived with Lance, but unfortunately lost him as Keith’s teammates had quickly descended upon him with offerings of drinks and loud discussion about how the team would fare without their graduating seniors.

He escaped them a drink and a half later, wandering upstairs on a whim to try to get away from the loudest part of the party – needing half a second to himself so he didn’t completely lose his mind.

Instead, he’d found a dozen people sitting in a circle.  He would have turned around immediately if he hadn’t recognized a head of short brown hair and a floral shirt stretched across broad swimmer shoulders.  Lance’s presence pulled him in, had him asking what was happening because if it was drugs, he could go for a hit right now.  A girl he recognized from his Calc II class scooted to one side to make room for Keith, offering him the next spin.

The memory lives in slow motion inside Keith’s brain, where the moment itself moved in hyperspeed.  Keith spun the empty wine bottle and watched as it zeroed in on its target.  Keith felt his chest constrict as he locked eyes with Lance, the only person in the circle Keith _shouldn’t_ kiss but the only one he desperately wanted to.  The understanding was instant.  They could beg off if they really didn’t want to.  No repercussions would be had if they said no.  But Lance was moving forward and Keith couldn’t stop himself from following suit.  “Ten seconds, yeah?” Lance asked.

Keith drained his cup, bracing himself to deal anew with the aggressive wave of feelings he had for Lance and already mourning his decision-making but secretly thrilled for this opportunity.  Ten seconds to kiss Lance.  Ten seconds to pretend that the feelings were mutual.  Ten seconds to pretend that the gorgeous, blue-eyed boy kneeling in front of him was his and his alone.

For maybe the first time in the thirteen years he’s known Lance, Keith could not get a read on what he was thinking.  Lance had always worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face, but there was nothing for Keith to see in this moment.  It didn’t matter, anyway, because Keith was reacting to the moment as it played out – no time spared for things like deliberating exactly how this was going to change their friendship.  Their mouths brushed in the middle of the circle and their ten seconds began.  Keith’s hands were shaking and Lance’s lips were soft and perfect and the gentle, hot breath on Keith’s skin lit up his nerve endings like fire.  Ten seconds was both an instant and an eternity – a singular moment in which Keith knew this boy was far too under his skin to even dream of getting over.

Pulling away sobered Keith immediately, terror running like ice through his veins at the sheer _tenderness_ he saw in those familiar blue eyes.   Lance smiled as he returned to his spot in the circle, immediately acting as if all they’d done was high five and not lock lips in front of ten other people at a house party.  Keith spent the next ten minutes trying to remember how to breathe normally before he excused himself from the circle and walked home.

\--

 

“I’m _borrowing_ her car,” Keith said, bent down and lacing up his combat boots beside the front door.  They had spent most of the morning decorating Christmas cookies with the kids, and then been stuffed full of authentic Cuban cooking.  Keith had told Lance’s abuela that he could eat her ropa vieja for the rest of his life, and Lance had to stifle his laugh behind his hand at the way his abuela had lit up and started proclaiming what a good and lovely boy Keith was in rapid, thick Cuban Spanish as if Keith could understand a single word.

Lance lifted a skeptical eyebrow.  “Isn’t there something about that on your record?”

“No,” Keith said haughtily.  “I was a minor and Shiro never pressed charges.”

Lance shook his head, still _greatly_ amused by Keith’s youthful indiscretions.  “The first summer you ever spent with him and you stole his goddamn car.”

“I was proving a point,” Keith said.  “I’ve told you this a hundred times.”

“Your uncle has the patience of a saint,” Lance said. “Why don’t we just take my car?”

“Are you coming or not?”

“To break into your mom’s house?”

“I have a key.  There’s no breaking.  Just fully and wholeheartedly permissible entering.  She said I just have to pick her up from the airport in return.”

“Fine, I’m coming,” Lance said, stuffing his feet into his sneakers.  “Mama! Keith and I are going out!”

“Be safe, _mijos_!” Lance’s abuela called from the kitchen.  “Don’t forget your hats and scarves!”

“Yes, abuelita!” Keith and Lance called in unison, sharing a glance and a snicker between themselves as they did.

They trekked outside and down the block toward Keith’s mom’s house.  It was barely a five minute walk before they reached it, shuffling up the cleared-out driveway so Keith could punch in the garage code.  Nestled safely in the garage was Keith’s mom’s dark blue SUV, untouched for the last month or so while Krolia had been out of the country.

“Do you know where she left her keys?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, they’re in her armoire,” Keith said, jogging up the stairs to the second level.  He was gone a matter of moments before reappearing with a keyring dangling from his index finger.  “Got ‘em.”

“You think your mom’s gonna be surprised that we decorated her house?”

“Uh, yeah,” Keith chuckled.  “She hasn’t been home since Halloween, she’s gonna be kinda surprised.”

“Isn’t this so much better than spending the week in our empty, haunted rental house?”

“It’s only slightly haunted.”

“Slightly haunted is still haunted.”

“It’s okay, it’s not a malicious ghost.”

“It’s still a ghost!”

Keith smiled, bumping his shoulder against Lance’s. “If you ask nice, Pidge’ll probably sage it out for us.”

“Why didn’t she do that when you moved in?”

“We didn’t know about it right away,” Keith said. “And then we kind of wanted to fuck with James.”

Lance tossed his hands up. “So fucking with James is more important than Lance’s comfort?”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t fuck with James as long as possible given the opportunity, Lance.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you got me there.”

\--

“Hey Lance?”

“Sup?”

“I want to tell you something,” Keith said hesitantly.  “And I don’t want you to get weirded out by it.”

Lance lifted an eyebrow.  “Okay?”

“I just… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable?” Keith said.  His lower lip was caught between his teeth, where it had been more and more frequently as Keith had pondered this revelation on his own time.  “I just really need to tell _somebody_ and you’re my best friend, so if I can’t tell you I don’t know how I could tell _anyone_.”

“Dude, you’re freaking me out,” Lance said, his blue eyes widening slightly with concern.  “Just tell me.”

“I’m gay,” Keith said.  He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Lance, waiting for the reaction – any reaction – desperate to know if this would irrevocably change the way Lance viewed him.  “I don’t like girls and I never have and I’m super, super gay.”

“Oh.”  Lance blinked a couple times, tilting his head to one side.  “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Lance shrugged.  “People can be gay, Keith.”

“You’re not, like, weirded out by it?”

“Of course not,” Lance said easily.  “You’re still Keith.  Still my best friend.  I still love the shit out of you, no homo.  I’m just kinda surprised ‘cuz if one of us was gonna be gay, you’d think it’d be me.”

“What?”

Lance’s lips quirked upwards in a half-grin.  “I mean, gay people are supposed to have good fashion sense, right?  You have a goddamn mullet, my man.”

“You dick,” Keith muttered, shoving his hand against Lance’s face playfully.  “Whatever.  You’re sure you’re okay with it?”

Lance nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m definitely okay with both your sexuality and your eternal hockey hair.  Does it, like, make you uncomfortable when I talk about girls?”

Keith shook his head.  “I don’t care.”

“Okay,” Lance said.  “You can talk to me about guys if you want.”

“You sure?”

Lance nodded.  “Yeah.  Also, you should tell me how you came to this conclusion, because I saw Jake McNamara shirtless in the locker room and it had me feeling some kinda way, so like… how did you know?”

Telling the truth was non-optional, but Lance had given him a window to an at least somewhat honest response.  Keith’s lips quirked up at the corners.  “I saw Jake McNamara shirtless.”

“Oh god,” Lance said and Keith’s heart leapt somewhere into his throat with a hopefulness he didn’t want to admit.  “But I definitely like girls.  Are people allowed to like both?”

“Yes, people are allowed to like both,” Keith confirmed.  “But I’m not gonna tell you what your sexuality is, Lance.  I’m just telling you my gay awakening was definitely Jake McNamara and you can do with that information what you will.”

“…Well shit.”

\--

“Do you two want to come to a Christmas party tonight?”

“A party?” Lance asked around a mouthful of ham.  He wrinkled his nose as Keith reached up to touch Lance’s hair, coming away with a stray piece of tinsel.  Veronica sat at the top of the stairs, a few feet away from where Keith and Lance were devouring the Tupperware she’d been sent over with when the boys didn’t go back to the house for lunch.  

Veronica’s lip curled slightly in distaste.  “Chew with your mouth closed, Leandro.  Mama raised you better.”

Lance rolled his eyes, chewing even more obnoxiously to irritate his sister.

“Who’s party is it?” Keith asked.

“Nadia Rizavi’s,” Veronica said.   “She and her brother throw a big Christmas party every year.  Wear an ugly sweater and drink free booze.  Can’t go wrong, right?”

Keith shrugged.  “I’m down if Lance is.”

“I’m always down for free booze,” Lance said, his mouth miraculously clear of food.  “We’re in.”

“It starts at six,” Veronica said.

“We should be back by then,” Lance said.  “I have to drag Keith to the mall so I can finish my shopping.”

Veronica arched an eyebrow in judgement.  “It’s three days ‘til Christmas, Lance.”

“I’m not the only person who waits until the last minute!” Lance defended.

“That’s the point, the mall will be packed,” Veronica said.  “Doesn’t Keith hate crowds?  Or are you a procrastinator, too?”

“I did all my shopping on Halloween night,” Keith said.  “I only procrastinate on the wrapping.”

Veronica chuckled.  “You know, Keith, it’s times like these when I can tell you’re not _really_ one of my brothers, because you’re way too damn smart.”

“I will protect Keith from the crowds,” Lance said.  “And we’ll be back with plenty of time to get ready for your dumb party, Ronnie.”

“Have fun shopping,” Veronica said, pushing herself up to trot down the stairs toward the front door.  “Don’t forget to wear an ugly sweater!”

 Lance turned to survey their handiwork.  They’d gone to a local tree lot, where Lance had immediately beelined for the biggest tree in the whole lot and Keith had spent the next twenty minutes talking him down to one that would actually fit in the house.  They’d brought it back and, along with several Target bags full of tinsel and ornaments, returned to Krolia’s with a hefty task ahead of them.  They’d made quick work of it, Christmas music blaring from the speaker of Lance’s iPhone as they decked the house tip to toe in gaudy green, red, gold, and blue decorations.  There was tinsel twisted around every banister, ornaments trimming the corners of windows, and little tiny gnomes that Lance had absolutely insisted they buy hidden around every nook and cranny of the living room.  The tree was harder, since the lights Keith had unearthed from the basement were a tangled ball of nightmares.  They’d taken nearly an hour to unwind, mostly because halfway through Lance had compared Keith to Winona Ryder in Stranger Things and Keith had attempted to strangle Lance with the length they’d managed to untangle and forced them to start all over again.

“This place looks like Santa’s wet dream,” Lance said casually.  Keith immediately gagged.

“Never speak to me again.”

Lance grinned slyly.  “You think Christmas can’t be sexy, Keith?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want to think about Santa’s jizz.”

“You’re just not into bears,” Lance accused.  “But if you get past that, then I think tinsel shibari could be pretty fun.”

“Christ, Lance.”

“Oh, that’s even nastier than mine, Keith, don’t bring baby Jesus into this.”

Keith made a strangled noise.  “I hate you and I want to go back in time to five minutes ago and kill you before you can start this thread of conversation.”

“But you’d be so lonely,” Lance said, nudging Keith’s stomach with his toe. “You love me, admit it.”

“It’s better than having a best friend who puts an image of my head of Santa in shibari and also Jesus is there.”

“That’s a valid point and if time travel existed, I wouldn’t blame you for completing the promised transaction.”

“Thanks, I knew you’d understand.”

\--

“Best friends _forever_ , Keith,” Lance said, one skinny arm bent with his hand planted firmly on a hipbone.  They were at their favorite hiding spot the night before Keith was leaving to spend the summer between sixth and seventh grade with his uncle, and Keith had just rejected Lance’s proposal to spit-swear that they’d be best friends forever. “You promised, remember?”

“I’m not breaking my promise,” Keith argued, running a dirt-stained thumb under his nose disdainfully.  “But we promised that when we were, like, six.  I’m just saying it’s dumb to swear on stuff you can’t actually _know_.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be my best friend?”

“No!” Keith said.  “I’m saying that I can’t swear on it, because I _don’t know_.”

“What don’t you know!?” Lance shouted, tossing his hands in the air.

“I don’t know how long you’ll want me around!” Keith yelled back.

“I want you around forever, stupid!” Lance responded immediately.  “That’s the whole point!”

“But how do you _know_ ,” Keith insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.  “How do you know you won’t find a new best friend while I’m gone?  _Everyone_ likes you, and _nobody_ likes me, so why wouldn’t you find a new best friend when I’m gone?”

“Because nobody’s as good as you,” Lance said, as if it were obvious.  “Duh.”  Lance paused for a moment, his blue eyes flicking over Keith’s upset expression.  “Just ‘cuz I have other friends doesn’t mean I want a new _best_ friend.  That’s always gonna be you, Keith.”

Keith bit his lip, eyes narrowed as he tried to gauge Lance’s sincerity.  For all that Lance was an awful liar, that didn’t mean he didn’t believe he was telling Keith the truth.  There was no way for either of them to know what their future really held, and really, Lance’s optimistic approach was perhaps equally valid in the coin flip odds.  Keith’s shoulders slumped.

“I don’t wanna swear,” Keith said quietly.  “Just in case.”

“The whole point of the swear is to make sure that it doesn’t happen, dummy,” Lance said.  “There’s no take-backsies on spit-swears.  I know you’re gonna be at your uncle’s all summer, but I’m _swearing_ that when you come back, you’ll still be my best friend in the whole world, and you’re gonna keep being my best friend until I die, and then I’m gonna haunt you until _you_ die so that we can be ghost best friends together, ‘cuz _that’s_ best friends forever.”

Keith rubbed at his nose again and hoped he wouldn’t cry in front of Lance.  “Fine.  Best friends forever.”

Lance beamed, spitting in his hand and sticking it out to shake Keith’s.  Keith reluctantly spat in his own hand and slapping his palm against Lance’s.  “You’re stuck with me forever now, Keith.  No take-backsies.”

Keith rolled his eyes.  “Like there was really any choice.”

\--

Despite their compliance with Veronica’s insisting they be home early, they rolled into the party nearly an hour after it’s start.  Veronica and her boyfriend disappeared almost as soon as they stepped through the door, leaving Lance and Keith alone in a house full of strangers and people they hadn’t seen since high school.  With that knowledge, they agreed it was time to start drinking.

“Oh my god, Lance?”

Lance made a face at Keith before he turned around, a polite smile stretched across his face.  “Jenny! How’s it going?”

“It’s _so_ good!” Jenny replied.  She was hanging off the arm of a man who looked almost as wide as he was tall, and Lance unconsciously took a step back toward Keith at the sight of him.  “How are you, how have you been?”

“Pretty good,” Lance nodded.  He wasn’t drunk enough for ex-classmate small talk.  “You remember Keith, right?”

“Of course I do!” Jenny exclaimed.  “And this is my fiancé, Todd.”

“Congratulations,” Keith murmured politely.

“How long have you been together?”

“Two years,” Jenny cooed.  “We met as freshman.  Nowhere near as good a story as you two, though.”

“Huh?” Lance asked eloquently, feeling Keith stiffen beside him.

“Oh my god,” Jenny said, her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders.  “You two are absolutely the cutest couple I’ve ever met.  Like, goals, really.”

Oh.  _Oh_.  “Oh, uh, thanks,” Lance said.

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith hissed, digging an elbow in to Lance’s ribs.

“Sorry,” Lance chuckled, grabbing Keith’s arm in an effort to make him stop poking him.  “We were just on our way to the kitchen.  We’ll catch up with you later?”

“Please do!” Jenny said.  “Also, your sweater is _so_ great, Keith.”

“Thanks,” Keith said shortly, all but dragging Lance away from the bubbly blonde and her hulking fiancé and into the kitchen where he immediately rounded on Lance.  “What the fuck, dude?”

“What?” Lance asked innocently, his eyes wide.

“Get your brain out of your dick, she’s _engaged_ ,” Keith said.

“I don’t like Jenny Slater,” Lance hissed.

“You sure did in high school,” Keith volleyed.

“Dude, let it the fuck go,” Lance said.  “She’s harmless.”

“And now she thinks we’re dating.”

Lance tossed his hands in the air.  “Dude, we’ve been friends for, like, fifteen years.  At a party like this, we might as fuckin’ well be married.  Sorry that I’d rather get drunk than stand there explaining how we’re not together to a girl I haven’t seen in three years and her boyfriend who’s built like a goddamn tank.”

Keith slumped back against the cabinet, some of the fire going out of his eyes.  “Fine.”

“You want some Fireball?” Lance asked, moving toward the counter lined with drinks.

“Make it a double.”

\--

“Come on, Lance,” Keith wheedled.  “If you could have _anything_ for Christmas, what would it be?”

Lance shrugged.  “I dunno, everything seems kinda dumb to say.”

“Who cares if it’s dumb?” Keith asked.  “It’s something you _want_.  It can be anything.”

“What do _you_ want?” Lance volleyed, wrapping his arms around his knees, resting his chin on the one that wasn’t scraped and scabbed over from his run-in with a too-uneven skating pond a few days prior.

“I want new skates and a puppy,” Keith said.  “See? Dumb.”

“That’s not dumb,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. 

“My mom’s never gonna get me a puppy, so its kinda dumb.”

“Your mom loves dogs,” Lance argued.  “You’re definitely getting a puppy.”

“Whatever, every kid wants a dog and no one actually gets one,” Keith said, shaking his head.  “Are you really not gonna tell me?”

Lance sighed, letting his legs slide away from his body until they were flat against the floor of Keith’s bedroom.  “I want a telescope.”

“Dude, that’s _so_ cool, what the hell?” Keith exclaimed.  “Why would you think that’s dumb?”

“’Cuz Luis says I’m not smart enough to be an astronaut,” Lance mumbled, sliding his whole body down the wall until just his head was propped up against the baseboard.  “So why bother being interested in space if I can’t even go?”

“Screw Luis,” Keith said hotly.  “He doesn’t know anything.  He’s gonna wind up living with your parents forever and managing a Pizza Hut.”

Lance tried not to smile, but the way his best friend jumped so quickly to his defense made his chest grow lighter.  “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Don’t give up on the stuff you want just ‘cuz someone else tells you you can’t do it,” Keith said. “Prove them wrong so you can rub it in their face when you get your picture taken in outer space.”

“I know what I want for Christmas,” Lance declared, pushing himself up off the ground and back into a sitting position.

“What?”

“I want us to stay like this forever.”

“You mean, best friends?”

“I mean like having each other’s _backs_ ,” Lance said.  “You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better.”

“That’s not a Christmas wish,” Keith argued.  “That’s just friendship.”

“Well, it’s what I want,” Lance said.

“Christmas wishes are something you can wrap and put under a tree,” Keith pointed out.

“So I can’t tell you my other Christmas wish is a girlfriend?”

“You’re doing this completely wrong,” Keith said.  “Listen.  You’re eleven.  You don’t want a girlfriend.  You want a telescope and Super Smash Bros.”

“Oh.  Yeah, you’re right.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Keith’s lips.  “I just know you better than you know yourself.”

“You’re right,” Lance said, shaking his head.  “Who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got you?”

Keith’s face heated, his expression morphing into some mixture of confusion that had Lance practically falling over with laughter.

\--

The house was filled with the shrieking of small children as Lance chased his niece and nephew through the basement playfully.  He and Keith had been roped into babysitting – not that it had taken much convincing on Lance’s part – so that Lance’s brothers and their wives could go out to dinner with their parents.  Veronica was around somewhere and Rachel was at her girlfriend’s house, leaving Lance and Keith fully in charge of eight-year-old Nadia, five-year-old Sylvio, and two-year-old Vanessa.

Lance missed babysitting his niece and nephew so much, and while Keith was a bit more reluctant, he was just as good with kids.  His siblings’ kids were Lance’s favorite tiny people in the world, even if they were louder than banshees, and they were boundlessly happy to be left alone with Lance and Keith.  Nadia and Sylvio vied for Lance’s attention, while Vanessa had decided that Keith’s hip was her new favorite place in the world and attached herself there for the evening.  Lance couldn’t resist admiring how naturally Keith interacted with the toddler and the grin that spread across his whole face as she babbled at him and handed him doll after doll to hold.

Nadia and Sylvio were more high-octane, and while Lance tried to keep the running and shrieking to a minimum, they still wound up tearing through the house until Veronica came downstairs to tell them to quiet down.  They were started to get worn out, anyway, so Lance convinced them to play a board game until bedtime.  He sent them up to brush their teeth and get in bed and helped Keith, who had been holding a sleeping Vanessa for the last thirty minutes, put the toddler to bed as well.  Once they were all in bed, Lance headed for the kitchen, popping a bowl of popcorn and grabbing two glasses and a bottle of good, Cuban rum from Rafael’s stash.  He brought his haul into the living room, where Keith was slumped on the sofa, scrolling through Netflix.

“Netflix and snacks?” Lance asked with a grin.

“Are you sure we should drink?” Keith asked, honing in on the bottle in Lance’s hands.  “We’re technically still babysitting.”

“They’re asleep,” Lance said.  “Plus Ronnie is here, so if worst comes to worst, she can be the responsible adult.”

“Don’t have to twist my arm,” Keith said, selecting a lame-looking Christmas movie as Lance poured them each a glass of rum.  “Cheers,” Keith said, lifting one of the glasses as he settled back into the sofa.

“Cheers,” Lance said, clinking his glass against Keith’s with a grin.  Keith looked away, taking a gulp of his rum.  Lance had to take a breath to stop thinking about his unfairly pretty Keith looked in the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights.  He settled back, stretching his arms out across the back of the sofa.  “I kinda miss this when we’re at school.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, glancing up at Lance.

“Chilling,” Lance clarified.  “Just you and me.  Like, Pidge and Hunk are great and I guess James has his moments, but… I don’t know.  I feel like we don’t hang out just you and me anymore.  Not as much, anyway.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Lance said quickly.  “Just saying.  This is nice.”

“It is,” Keith agreed, tucking his legs up underneath him.  “We should play a drinking game.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Lance said.  “Santa hat game?”

“Santa hat game,” Keith agreed.

\--

Keith’s mom was out of town for his ninth birthday.  It wasn’t _so_ bad.  Lance sang to him loudly and very off-key when they met each other at the bus stop, and after school, Keith’s dad pulled up a video chat with his mom so they could eat cake together. 

She was still out of town on Halloween, which was fine, because Keith’s dad was always the one who took him trick-or-treating.  Except that his dad was on call that night, and his pager went off thirty minutes before they were going to leave the house.  A quick call down the street to Selma sent Lance and Luis trotting down the block to collect Keith.  They would go trick-or-treating together.  It was just as well in Keith and Lance’s opinion, since Luis was the least likely to actually supervise them.  They didn’t _need_ the supervision anyway.  They were in familiar domain.

They hit all the good houses and most of the ones in between, spending a good two hours trekking around the neighborhood.

They were out for a good while, hitting all the good houses and most of the ones in between.  They walked toward home, digging through their bags and swapping pieces with each other.  Keith knew Lance liked Skittles the best, and Lance was more than happy to give Keith his Starbursts in return.

“Your dad likes the M&M’s, right?” Lance asked.

“Yeah,” Keith confirmed.

“Here,” Lance said, tossing him a pack of M&Ms.  “Oh, dude, can I have one of your Tootsie Rolls?”

“Sure.”

They both stopped short at the sight of a police car in Lance’s driveway.

“What’s happening?” Keith asked.

“Dunno,” Lance said, but there was a thread of concern already running through his tone.  They picked up their pace, and even Luis was paying attention now.

By the time they were in sight of the door, they could make out Selma on the porch, talking with two police officers.  When she caught sight of the boys, her face paled.  She locked eyes with Keith, and something in his chest constricted immediately.

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Luis asked.

“Luis, Lance, go inside,” Selma said quietly.

Keith’s blood ran cold and he knew that this was bad.  Very, very bad.

Lance’s hand slipped into his.  “No, I wanna wait with Keith,” he said, quietly defiant.  Selma only nodded.

One of the police officers stooped down to look Keith in the eye.  He was a friend of Keith’s dad’s.  “Keith, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, son.”

Keith was frozen to the step, a deer in the headlights of the inevitable bad thing careening straight for him.  Keith wanted to run and hide and never know what the police officer had to tell him.  But he only stood there.

“Your dad responded to a house fire tonight,” the officer went on.  His gaze didn’t waver from Keith’s.  “He saved three people, but before he could get out, the house collapsed.  He didn’t make it.”

Keith shook his head minutely.  “No he’s—he’s just on call.”

“I’m sorry, Keith,” the second police officer added.  “Your father was a good man.”

“No, I—” Keith said softly, his throat constricting.  “I saved him the M&Ms.”

“Mijo, your mom’s on her way home,” Selma said gently, bending down to rest a gentle hand on Keith’s cheek.  “You should come inside and get some sleep.”

“No, I wanna wait for dad,” Keith said defiantly, his voice a little stronger.  “He’s gonna pick me up after work.”

“He’s not, Keith,” the first officer said.  “He’s not coming home.”

“No, he’s—he has to,” Keith said weakly.  He could feel the tears spilling down his cheeks.  “He has to.”

“Keith,” Lance said quietly, his voice reverberating in Keith’s bones.  He looked at his best friend and saw wide blue eyes filled with unshed tears.  “Let’s go inside.”

Keith nodded jerkily, letting Lance pull him inside.  Keith sat, half-present, half in shock as Lance built them a blanket fort and lined the bottom with a nest of pillows and blankets before tugging Keith inside.  They lay shoulder to shoulder, Keith’s hand wrapped around Lance’s like a vice.  Like Lance was the only thing tethering Keith to this mortal coil.

“Hey Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Keith nodded, tears welling up in his eyes all over again.  He rolled, closing what little space was between him and Lance and pressed his face into the soft fabric of Lance’s t-shirt.  Lance’s arms came up easily to wrap around Keith’s shoulders.  It was the single most comforting thing Keith could imagine with both of his parents out of reach.  “Me too.”

Time got hazy after that.  Keith didn’t remember much about the following week – just remembered his mom coming home and crying a lot and Lance’s mom spending almost all of her time at their house, cooking and cleaning.  Lance was there, too, and Keith couldn’t explain how reassuring that felt.  That even though Keith was a miserable, grieving zombie who couldn’t find it in him to do any of the fun things they usually did together, that Lance was still willing to be there.  Willing to sit in silence, or ramble about his family’s antics while Keith listened.  It made him feel like _something_ was still the same, even though everyone else in his life was suddenly acting like the world had ended.

Because it hadn’t, no matter how much Keith felt like it had. 

The world kept spinning without Keith’s dad.  It was just upside down.

And Keith’s best friend managed to keep him steady as he figured out how gravity worked on this side of life.

\--

“Drink,” Lance giggled, having long since lost track of the plot of the movie.  One of his legs is draped over both of Keith’s, while Keith’s whole body is slumped into Lance’s side. It’s warm and it’s comfortable and Lance has never felt quite so at peace with the world and everything in it.

Keith lifted his glass to his mouth, taking a sip of rum as Lance did the same. “God, how much longer is this fuckin’ movie? My liver can’t handle it.”

“Then drink water, you dumb bitch,” Lance said heatlessly, leaning forward to grab a water bottle from the coffee table in front of them.  He pressed it into Keith’s hands, replacing the glass of rum which he sat on the coffee table alongside his own.

Keith gulped down half the water in the bottle and handed it back to Lance. “Shit.”

“You okay?”

Keith nodded, his nose nuzzling against Lance’s neck. “Yeah. Very drunk. Very comfy.”

Lance shifted, wrapping one of his arms around Keith.  “‘Kay. Stay comfy.”

“You’re ninety percent toothpick, who gave you the right to be so comfy,” Keith muttered, his breath tickling against Lance’s collarbone and sending a shiver across his skin.

“Dunno. You mad?”

“Fuck no.” 

A beat passed. Then two. Half a dozen. Lance stared blearily at the screen, not having tracked enough of the movies plot to know how the characters had gotten to this climactic wedding scene, but knowing it was tropey enough that he didn’t need to. It was a True Love/Christmas Miracle.

When the movie finished, they managed to stumble up the stairs to Lance’s room, giggling quietly as they tried not to wake the kids.  Lance shimmied out of his jeans before collapsing on the bed in just his t-shirt and boxers.  Keith tripped over a stray pillow and caught himself on Lance’s desk chair.

“Don’t die,” Lance snickered. 

“Too late,” Keith mumbled.

“Nooo, I love you too much for you to die,” Lance giggled.  “C’mere.”

Keith righted himself and approached Lance.  “’M drunk.”

“Yeah,” Lance grinned.  “Me too.”

“Bedtime.”

“Yeah, c’mere,” Lance said again, shifting over and patting the empty space beside him on the bed.  “Your dumb nest fell apart anyway.”

“’S not dumb,” Keith said, but he was climbing in beside Lance.  “’S comfy.”

“You’re like a baby bird,” Lance giggled quietly.  “Baby bird sleepin’ in your baby bird nest.”

“Cheep cheep, motherfucker,” Keith murmured, hiccupping on a laugh.

They settled in beside one another, knees brushing in the middle of the bed and foreheads nearly knocking as they tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible.  In the dark of the bedroom, with just the barest hint of moonlight coming in the window, reflecting off the snow on the roof outside, Keith’s features were half-illuminated in silver light.  He could almost see the warm flush painting Keith’s cheeks, but he could absolutely see the way his eyes were big and dark, pupils blown wide from the dark and the alcohol.  He was so, _so_ pretty and Lance almost forgot to breathe looking at him.

Lance’s eyes flicked downward and he found himself leaning in – slowly, but with intention.  His chest was constricting with a certain urgency, an absolute unwillingness to risk this opportunity — maybe his only opportunity— to kiss Keith senseless while he looked so soft and beautiful. God knew he’d spent enough time thinking about it in the last three years.

Keith’s lips were chapped, slightly damp from water or rum or the slick of his tongue, Lance couldn’t tell, but they were soft and yielding under Lance’s own. Almost instantly Keith responded, shifting to slot their mouths better together, Lance’s lower lip between both of Keith’s with just the slightest amount of pressure sealing them together. Lance was addicted — had been since that fateful high school party where Lance had foolishly failed to see the consequences of agreeing to kiss his best friend on the whim of a stupid bottle spin.  He’d been craving this since – trying for the last three years to find another opportunity for a repeat performance of the kiss that had left his stomach in knots and his heart like putty in Keith’s unwitting hands. Ten seconds wasn’t enough time to kiss Keith.  Ten _years_ wouldn’t be enough time to kiss Keith.  Lance pressed closer, desperate for more of this, more of the kiss, more of _Keith_ , and Keith’s lips parted so easily that Lance almost moaned at the gentle slide of tongue against his lower lip. Lance could think of nothing but the easy give and take of their mouths together. Could think of nothing except how perfect kissing Keith felt.

Keith’s fingers tangled in the short hair at the base of Lance’s neck, sending a shiver down Lance’s spine. Then all at once, Keith pulled back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, his lips shiny and red from the kiss.  “We’re drunk,” Keith said faintly.

“Yeah,” Lance said, leaning desperately toward Keith like he was the air Lance was breathing.

“We can’t do this,” Keith said, voice a little stronger.

“We can’t?”

Keith’s dark eyes flashed with something Lance couldn’t put his finger on. “No.”

“Why?”

“We should go to sleep,” Keith said, drawing further away. Lance’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. “I’m tired.”

“O-okay,” Lance said.  He watched as Keith rolled over, his back to Lance but his feet still tangled against Lance’s ankles beneath the sheets.  Lance’s alcohol-addled brain swirled with thoughts, replaying the kiss and the moments leading up to it over and over. “Keith?”

Silence.  Lance didn’t think he was going to get an answer. Maybe Keith had already fallen asleep. And then—

“What?”

“I want to try kissing you when I’m sober.”

If Keith has an answer for that, it came long after Lance had fallen asleep.

\--

Keith had no idea what to make of the boy glaring at him from across the playground.  Keith was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to cause such animosity on the first day in a brand new school.  In fact, Keith had spent the whole day thus far actively _trying_ not to get on anyone’s bad side.  So the glaring was not only unexpected, but unsettling. 

There was dirt streaked under one of the boy’s bright, blue eyes, and his soft brown hair was sticking up in a million directions like he’d never seen a comb in his life. 

Keith tried not to stare back, but he could feel the boy’s blue eyes boring into him as Keith sat near the fireman’s pole on the playground and dangled his feet off the edge of the set.

A bigger kid raced behind Keith and bumped him just enough that Keith lost his balance.  He reached out, grabbing onto the pole for balance, and wound up tumbling ungracefully to the gravel below.  He lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky and trying to will himself back into his bed at home.  Maybe his dad would let him stay home tomorrow if he told them he had made an enemy already.

Speak of the devil.

Keith blinked as the angry boy from the other side of the playground appeared in his line of sight, angry glare slightly given way to a concerned look, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Are you dead?”

“If I am, will you go away?”

The boy twisted his mouth.  “You’re not, though.”

Keith heaved out a sigh and pushed himself into a sitting position.  “No, I’m not.”

“Why’d you do a dumb thing like fall off the playground?” the boy asked.

“Got bumped,” Keith said.  “Probably shouldn’t have been sitting there anyway.”

“No,” the boy confirmed.  “Not with the third graders out here, anyway.”

“Lesson learned.”

“What’re you doing starting in the middle of the school year anyway?” the boy asked, plopping down to sit beside Keith in the gravel.  They were tucked just underneath the playground now, out of the way of the other kids who were playing.

“Why do you care?” Keith asked.

The boy frowned.  “I don’t.”

“People who don’t care don’t ask questions.”

“Well, maybe I just want to know what I’m up against,” the boy said haughtily.  “You’re here one day and you’re all anyone can talk about.”

“It’s just ‘cuz I’m new,” Keith said.  “They won’t care once I’ve been here a few days.”

The boy was quiet for a moment.  “So why _are_ you here?”

“Mom got a new job,” Keith admitted.  “Had to move.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s a firefighter,” Keith said.  “He can work anywhere.”

“A real firefighter?” the boy asked, turning toward Keith.  “That’s so cool!”

A surge of pride ran through Keith’s veins.  “Yeah.  He let me turn the sirens on once.”

The boy’s eyes went wide.  “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah.  I haven’t been to his new station yet, though.  We just moved here three days ago.”

“What street do you live on?”

“Seventeenth street.”

“No way, me too!  Wait, did you move into that little blue house?”

Keith nodded.

“I live three blocks from there,” the boy said.  “Mine’s the big white house with blue trim.”

“Oh,” Keith said, a vague recollection of seeing the huge house lingering in his mind’s eye.  “Okay.”

“I’m Lance,” the boy offered finally, knocking one of his knees against Keith’s.  “Sorry you fell off the playground.”

“I’m Keith.  Why were you glaring at me?”

Lance looked down sheepishly.  “Everyone was talking about you and I got jealous.”

Oh.  “Like I said, no one will care in a few days.”

“They will when they hear your dad is a real life firefighter,” Lance argued.  “My step-dad’s an accountant.”

Keith bit back a smile.  “That’s not a _bad_ thing.”

“No, it’s just not cool,” Lance grumbled.

“Well, my dad would be cooler if he would let me have a dog,” Keith said.  “My mom said she wants one, but my dad won’t let us.”

“Aw, man!” Lance looked sad on Keith’s behalf.  “Why wouldn’t anyone want a dog?”

“Right?”

“My older brother has a dog,” Lance said.  “Do you want to come meet her some time?”

Keith nodded.  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Lance grinned.

And the rest was history.

\--

Lance woke to a cold bed, but the memory of the warm body beside his was definitely not a dream.

It took him a moment to find his bearings, to feel out his drunken memories and recall all the events of the previous night.

He’d kissed Keith.

Keith had kissed him back.

And now Keith was gone.

Lance sat up, inspecting Keith’s pillow nest still resting on the floor beside the bed.  It hadn’t been disturbed.  Keith’s shoes were missing, but his bag was still resting near Lance’s closet.  He hadn’t up and run away.  Or if he had, he’d done a piss-poor job of packing.

Lance got up and pulled a sweatshirt over his head.  One thing was for damn sure – he wasn’t about to let them play this off like it had never happened.  He’d regretted not talking about Spin the Bottle, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Lindy and Chel were in the living room when Lance trotted down the stairs.  “Hey, you seen Keith?”

“He left about an hour ago,” Chel said lightly.  “Wasn’t he picking Krolia up from the airport this morning?”

Lance groaned.  “Right, it’s Christmas eve.  Shit.”

“Something wrong?” Lindy asked.

Lance made a noncommittal noise, already beelining for the door.  “I’ll let you know after I’ve talked to Keith.”

“Does someone owe me ten bucks?” Chel called out, but since Lance was already halfway out the door, he didn’t dignify her with a response.

She wasn’t getting her ten bucks anyway.

Lance realized about halfway down the street that he wasn’t even sure what time Krolia’s flight was supposed to come in, much less if it had been delayed at all.  It didn’t matter.  He was going to sit on the step and wait for Keith to get there, because like hell Lance was going to sit around waiting for Keith to come back to the house.

Not that sitting around outside of Keith’s house waiting for him to come there was all that much different.  The porch step was cold, and Lance spent about ten minutes wondering if he could accurately guess the garage code to get inside the house, but didn’t end up moving from the spot he’d taken up outside Krolia’s front door.

Lance wasn’t sure how long it was before he saw a familiar SUV turn onto their street and roll toward the house.  He could see Keith and Krolia both staring at him from down the block.  Lance’s heart suddenly kicked into overtime.  As much as he wasn’t about to let them not talk about what had happened, Lance had to admit there was a decent chance this could put some kind of rift in their friendship if Keith wasn’t on board with it.

Lance was putting all his chips on the table and crossing his fingers.

Keith stopped the car in the driveway, the grinding of the garage door opening disguising the sounds of the car doors opening.  Krolia waved at Lance as she headed in through the garage, and Keith made his way around the car and up the front steps toward Lance.

He stopped about five feet away.

“You left.”

“I had to pick up my mom,” Keith said, remorse lacing his tone. “I texted you.”

“I didn’t look,” Lance said. “I just came here.”

“How long have you been sitting out here?”

“Long enough for my ass to go numb.”

“You know, the garage code hasn’t changed since 2005.”

“Are we gonna talk about last night or are we gonna do that thing we did in high school where we pretend it never happened?”

Keith paused.  “I don’t know what you—“

“Yes you do, Keith, don’t bullshit me,” Lance said, his tone going low in warning.  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” Keith said quietly.  “We were drunk then, too.”

“Of course I fuckin’ remember it, Keith,” Lance said.  “I just thought you didn’t _want_ to remember it.”

“Lance, what is it that you want from me?” Keith asked desperately. “Because if we decide to try and feel out what happened last night I don’t think you’re ever gonna look at me the same way again.”

“Like hell,” Lance scoffed. “Keith, I love you.”

“I love you too, but—“

“No, Keith!” Lance interrupted, bright blue eyes flashing in annoyance. “I _love_ you.”

Keith bit his tongue, backing down and waiting for Lance to finish his thought.

“I love you,” Lance repeated. “So much. And for a long time, it was platonic.  And then it wasn’t, and I realized that it hadn’t been for a long time, but I was so sure you weren’t interested.  In me.  Like that.  And I wasn’t about to open a can of worms that would eat away at what we have, because what we’ve had all these years is so important to me.  I don’t know how I’d even keep breathing without you around, man, I just didn’t think _we_ were an option. And I was okay with that, I could accept that we weren’t _like_ that as long as I never had to lose you. As long as I could have you as my best friend. But if us being together is an option?” Lance blinked rapidly a few times, letting out a quiet, astonished huff. “God, that would be _it_ for me. The only damn thing I’ve ever wanted. Because there’s no one _better_ than you, Keith.  Not for me. Not even goddamn close.”

Keith swallowed hard. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll spit-swear it if you want me to,” Lance said on a breathless chuckle. “I’ll fuckin’ marry you if you want me to.”

“One—one thing at a time, maybe,” Keith said, looking breathless and beautiful and hopeful in a way Lance was almost sure he was imagining. “But if you’re sure, then… then that’s what I want, too.”

Lance felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him, but in the best possible way.  He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Keith in a tight hug, breathing in deep the distinctly _Keith_ smell of Old Spice and sweat and black coffee sweetened with cane sugar.  Lance couldn’t fathom a more familiar, comforting smell in the world.  Keith’s arms came up easily to wrap around Lance in return, a firm weight against his back enveloping him in a giddy kind of calm.  With his nose pressed firmly against Keith’s temple, his lips barely a breath away from Keith’s ear, Lance asked quietly, “Can I kiss you again?”

“You want to?”

Lance pulled back just enough to meet Keith’s gaze and brought a thumb up to brush against Keith’s jaw.  “I’ve been really looking forward to trying it sober.  I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be ten times better than it’s ever been drunk.”

“Big expectations,” Keith said, and Lance knew him well enough to know he was afraid of what this dynamic shift would bring.  Lance had no intention of letting a single one of Keith’s fears come to light.

“You’ve never let me down before,” Lance hummed, smiling as he leaned in to capture his first sober kiss with his favorite person in the world.

Lance couldn’t have been more satisfied with the results.


End file.
